12.27.09, early

I've demolished the idea of having a sleeping pattern. Some days I'm lucky to grab a few hours. Others, like today, I sleep 16 hours straight, without stirring once. Either I have a disorder, or I'm incredibly lazy. Naturally, I'd like to blame a disorder.

Schloemer xmas tomorrow in Geneva, starts at noon. As of now, It's still snowing, and the roads were quite slippery tonight when I came home. Hopefully I wont end up in a ditch with my family.

I've had my new laptop for three days and I have Ten days worth of music on it. I wasn't able to download my old iTunes purchases. Which irritates me, being as i bought them. Dear iTunes, you suck. Revise your policy.

I passed my Med Aide class. Need to complete a few more clinical hours and then I'll be done and certified. It remains a nice promotion.

The apartment is a horrendous mess. I'm going to force myself to clean here soon, probably. Maybe.

It's impossible for me to string together a coherent thought longer than two or three sentences, so I'll stop now. Folding laundry and working on kicking this cold's ass. Hopefully to Iowa City soon. Need a recharge.

Sex, Love, and Fucking

Sex isn't just sweat and an exchange of fluids. Sex can mean so much more, or sensationally, so much less.

Sex can mean hello. Fiercely fast and unemotional. Dripping with curiosity and the fervor of discovery.
Sex can mean goodbye. One last shot at holding on to ten years of devotion. Silence breaking in where screams once stood. Ten thousand paper cuts bleeding out painfully.
Sex can mean I love you. A tooth paste kiss leading to me mounting you on the sink. Your head banging against the mirror, legs wrapped around Me. Hungrily clinging to one another in mad passion that only thought can describe. Your arms needing to hold Me, while my lips must melt into yours.
Sex can mean red hot critical mass. Up like a redwood lasting for hours. Coming once, twice, then three times until you collapse, thoroughly spent and tired. Falling asleep with him still inside you.
Sex can be inappropriate. Vigorous fear of being found out. Knowing what feels right is wrong. If only for the moment, letting yourself go with tactile abandon with the rush of hormonal adrenaline. Forgetting that you are fucking yourself rather than truck number ten thousand.
Sex can remind you that you're alive. When hands flush and tingle. Fingertips igniting sparks on skin that erupt into uncontrollable flames.a forest fire as hot as hell telling you that today is all there is. That this world is too much to worry about how you're surviving in it.
Sex can be a declaration. Announcing to yourself and the great wide universe that you'll do whatever the fuck you want, when you want to do it. Forget 'em if they can't handle our kind. Leaving the deniers behind to forge a brave new existence.
Sex can be a dire contradiction. Grinding unabashedly on one thinking of another. The question of who you came across the one in your bed or the one in your head. Haunting you stiffly.

Life's problems, like good soup, always better the second day

If you want him
Go and find him
Tell him he's your only need
Be the boy he needs to play with
Be the man he longs to hold
If in your heart
You start to find
He is always on your mind
It won't be long 'till you feel
What the night has to reveal
Men will run from one to the next
Without crying, remorse,or regrets
We build up walls to guard our hearts
Telling ourselves, "you're being so smart"
But safe don't make for a very good scene
If the only one watching your ass
Is the mirror
Those border lines are getting much clearer
So you stray away
From your fake feeling path
Say you yourself there's no going back
You're on this track
There's a hard line
Between love and fucking
Trying to prove
What exactly is a mystery
Best left to the gods


"I'm dreaming
So come inside
Welcome to my
Filthy mind"

Beautiful Disaster

I'm not pretty like your last boyfriend
And I'm not clever like the one before him
I've got my flaws you say you love them all
And when I can tell you're lying you smile like a creepy doll

Please don't be awkward when we break up
I'm sure the next boy will be a "great fuck"
We've cut each other so deep we'll bleed for the rest of our lives
The truths in the cards and we weren't meant to be wives

The next boy could be the diamond you need
Strong, unbending, easy to read
But what's the fun in knowing the future
When you break the skin you still need a suture

Our arrangement isn't for the faint of heart
Because sometimes when we sing you forget your part
I'll compensate, elaborate, and concentrate
I think I'd get the same rise if I masturbate